O N E
How does the moon look so big from up here and so little ten stories down?
“How long have you been up here?”
I twist my neck as the door to the roof shuts behind him with a strong whack. He’s holding two ciders in between his fingers and a pink plastic chair in the others. One similar to the yellow one I’m sitting on the edge of.
“An hour or so.”
“Rough day?” Charlie cracks open one of the ciders and hands it to me before opening his pink chair and hauling his large frame down onto it.
“I had a patient code,” I exhale sharply then take a long drag off the bottleneck.
“Didn’t make it?” he guesses.
I shake my head.
“I’m sorry, Banks.” His tone was heartfelt, and a bit exhausted himself. It is after midnight.
“What are you doing up still?”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“So you came all the way over here?” I tick a brow in his direction.
“I like your rooftop better.”
“Liar.”
Charlie’s apartment a block west has, not only the coolest balcony, but his rooftop doesn’t smell like weed or have broken glass everywhere .
“I was hoping you’d still be up, though I thought I’d find you with your nose in one of those sexy books you read.”
About a month into our renewed friendship Charlie found out about the made-up men.
Charlie hunches over, his neck muscles tense.
“What’s going on with you?”
“Just some memories haunting me.”
“What kind of memories?”
Charlie glances at me through the side of his eyes, his expression hard and somewhat guarded.
“Off-limits,” I sigh. “I get it.”
“Where’s Kai tonight?” he chews over.
“With what’s-her-name.”
Charlie chuckles. “Do you purposely not remember their names?”
“There’s so many, when one sticks around for a few months, I’ll learn her name.”
“Kai’s just…”
“Just a man whore?”
“He’s young, can you blame him?”
“So are we.”
“We’re different,” Charlie hums into the night.
“Ain’t that the truth,” I breathe. “For me anyway. Why are you different?” I take another drink.
He shifts a little, pointing his body toward mine. “Why are you?” he squints.
I roll my eyes. “I am not doing this with you tonight.” I shake my head.
“Come on, Banks,” he whines. “We’ve been close these last couple of months, aren’t we? You haven’t gone out since that night. ”
“It’s not my cup of tea, I told you that.”
“What did they do to you?”
“Who?” I act oblivious.
“Banks .” He tips his head, knowingly.
“Charlie,” I mock.
“I already know about the made-up men,” he cheekily utters. “I should know about the real ones.”
“Why am I always the one shelling out information?” I say. “You first.”
He tips his bottle into his mouth, holding on to the neck with just his thumb and index finger. It amazes me that he has more strength in those two fingers than I do in my whole hand.
He moves on. “It’s cloudy.”
“I know,” I sigh. “I was just thinking how I wish I could see the stars. Even the moon is kind of hard to see.”
“Easier to see up here than down there.”
“Why is that?”
“You’re closer to it,” he half-heartedly chuckles.
I roll my eyes. “Okay, smartass.”
Silence fills us so I sidestep. “I think it’s time to start looking at apartments.”
“Kai driving you that crazy?”
“I just think it’s time,” I respire. “I’m ready for my own space and not listen to video games while I’m trying to sleep or wake up to him having the munchies at three in the morning.”
Charlie lets out a quiet chortle.
“I have first and last saved and I could afford a studio somewhere,” I continue. “But I’m sure there are wait lists so I should get a move on it. ”
“There’s a studio in my building that will be available after the holidays.”
My eyes widen. “Really?”
Charlie nods, taking another drink. “That girl Susie I told you about?” he says. “She lives there, but she’s moving to Boston after the new year.”
“Susie, huh?” I tease but Charlie brushes me off.
“I can put in a good word if you want. I know how much you love my rooftop.” He has the gull to wink at me.
“Let me look around,” I say. “But I would be interested.”
Somehow Charlie had weaseled his way into my life, we rarely go a day without seeing one another. We’ll show up unannounced at each other’s places or get lunch at our favorite little bistro placed perfectly between our buildings. He surprises me with a dreamsicle cupcake at least once a week at work. We even read together. Mostly he reads something along the titles of thriller, science fiction, or even manga, but sometimes he’ll pluck a book from my shelf. I love watching his facial expressions when he does, they are usually more entertaining than whatever I’m reading.
I’ve noticed Charlie lets me completely in on the surface, we get one another but anything deeper he’s pretty guarded. He talks of the past but nothing beyond high school. When college comes up, he always dismisses the question and replaces it with one of his own. I know something is lingering under that carefree happy exterior and the closer we get, the more I yearn to know what it is. I know he doesn’t talk to his father, but he does his mom. She’ll call at odd hours, somehow always forgetting the time difference though they’ve lived in Germany for years at this point. His sister is in high school herself now, they normally exchange emails. It’s funny to me, but he says Carsyn is obsessed with the early 2000s and the idea of AOL being the preferred form of communication is a joy of hers. So, he checks his emails, and they write back and forth like pen pals.
He ended up taking a job at a grocery warehouse close to the hospital, which is why he brings me cupcakes. He stocks shelves and that alone has him looking like a Greek god. I’m not surprised he’s begun a dalliance with Studio Susie, Charlie is good-looking and flirtatious. I experienced it myself when we spoke at Harlem’s for the first time when he asked me if I wanted to kiss him. Not that he would kiss me back if I did.
In his own way, Charlie is a version of a made-up man. I’ve gathered research on this throughout the summer. He’s funny, playful, and equally secretive. In the beginning, he was like a fly I couldn’t shake but when I finally gave in, I realized how similar we are. Charlie doesn’t have social anxiety like me, but he could take or leave going out. He enjoys spending his nights in books or looking at the stars. He doesn’t have a lot of friends. He could talk to anyone, but he spends most of his free time with me or Kai. We have the same sense of humor and taste in good pizza, which of course is cheese, though we try everything in an attempt to find something that beats it.
Spoiler—nothing has.
“Besides the code today, how’s work been?”
“Most of the nurses are fawning over the new peds doctor.”
“Why is that?” Charlie kicks his feet up and leans back.
“He’s young,” I say. “Attractive, kind and he saves sick babies for a living. What else could a girl want? ”
“Good point,” he hums. “Do you fancy the new doc?”
“He’s pleasant enough as a co-worker. I don’t think about things beyond that.”
“You mean you’re actually helping people rather than shooting heart eyes across the galley ways?”
I almost choke on my cider. “ Heart eyes , Charlie? Really?”
He smirks.
“You sound more like a teenage girl than they do.”
Unfazed as per-usual.
“Speaking of those, are we sure what’s-her-name is old enough to drink?”
I shrug. “I would assume so.”
“She looked young,” Charlie says. “Not kid young, but definitely could be holding on to the teen in nineteen.”
“Your puns just get worse as you go on.”
“You like my puns,” he smiles.
“Not as much as you do.”
That is one thing that is forever unwavering about Charlie—his complete and utter ability to maintain his confidence. I’ve never met someone so comfortable in their skin. Sometimes I wish on angel numbers that it rubs off on me.
“How’s your shoulder?” I nod at his left one. The one his clumsy ass ran into a steel stocking shelf yesterday.
Confident—yes.
Coordinated—no.
“I’ll live.”
“Been icing it like I told you?”
Charlie’s eyes glimmer. “I’m an excellent patient for Nurse Matsumara. ”
“More like one of my worst patients,” I correct him. “I don’t like to see regulars.”
“Why not? That means you’re good at your job.”
“Means people are continuing to injure themselves.”
“It’s a part of life.” He shrugs. “Might as well go to the best when you’re in need.”
“I’d hardly call myself the best.”
“You could have a Florence Nightingale and still not think you’re the best.”
I resist the urge to see the back of my eye sockets.
We both find ourselves looking at the sky. Not many stars to speak of, just the moon and the gusty clouds to keep her company.
We sip our ciders till the beginning of winter's chill becomes too much.
“I think I’m going to head in.”
I wait a moment before I turn my chin.
His head is tucked into the crook of his shoulder and neck, his cider sits lax in his lap while only one foot is still propped up.
He’s sound asleep, but at any moment he will be sawing logs.
If he were anyone else, I might just leave him for being foolish enough to fall asleep up here. Or rude enough to fall asleep on me. But I suppose it’s his turn. I passed out on his bed a few days ago after a double. I came over to watch the new Scream movie that just got out of theaters and only made it through the opening credits. I ended up forcing him to watch it again the next morning after he made French toast .
Maybe forced is a strong word. Charlie happily watched beside me as I attempted to play detective and figure out who the killer was before the end. He didn’t reveal a single spoiler.
I fold my chair and lean it against the edge. They could wait till morning as I stood over Charlie. I would never admit it, but I took a moment to myself to admire him.
I press my palm into his chest, gently shaking him. It takes a few stiffer ones to actually get him to wake.
His lids slowly raise, and I don’t miss how his lips curl at the corners. A soft and slight grin, but it’s the same face he makes every time he wakes.
“Let’s go in.”
His hand covers mine as he stands, tossing his arm across my shoulders. His tired body clashes against me as we head for the access door.